


Malfunction: The Aftermath

by Calamity_Lena



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Chipotle, Feels, Friends fighting, Gen, Hot Tempers, Sad Ending, malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:59:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calamity_Lena/pseuds/Calamity_Lena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After experiencing a possibly catastrophic failure during a set, the band is split on whether or not it is safe to continue performing. What if it happens again? And what if they aren't so lucky next time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER!WARNINGS: Strong Language, Violence, War!’Bots, BAD Flashbacks, Fighting in the band
> 
> A/N: I wrote this tale after discovering the “malfunction” incident that happened almost a year ago. I know I’m late… but inspiration hit me so hard I still have the bruise. I recommend watching the incident before reading this one, even if you have seen it already. It helps set the mood as this story.
> 
> Wanted to give a heads up to any possible readers… This is going to be a sad one. I'm talking, band members fighting with each other, words said in hot tempers that hurt feelings and a really depressing ending. You see those trigger warnings up there? Yeah. All of that.

 

 

* * *

  
**CHAPTER ONE**    

     

* * *

 

            They have had bad sets in the past.

            Of course they had. What performers haven’t? Every group has their collection of ‘some days’ stories. Some days, it seems like all the gremlins in the world are in the sound system and the mics won’t stop ringing. Some days, they get a sour audience that just can’t seem to laugh at the right places or clap when they are supposed to. Some days, someone’s really needs a break so the drummer gets extended solo. But when a band is composed mostly of antique automatons from the 1890’s, there is a whole new set of problems and stories.

            Problems for singing musical automatons were usually more like: a loose screw that causes a chord to slip, running low on water during an outdoor set in Arizona, someone dipping their processor in gumbo to make themselves more ‘Cajun’ and, the ever predictable, getting caught on a word during a song.

            This last set… this one was different.

            The drive back to the hotel was in stony silence. No radio playing, no chatting, no bickering between the band members, only the whirr of the blue matter cores working in the robots’ chassis, the occasional click of a joint sifting, and the constant rattle of the old tour bus as they drove over the highway.

            It was making Matt (not the doctor) Smith more than a little unnerved. He wished they’d let him drive. That way he didn’t have to be sitting in awkward silence, pretending that staring at the flat, boring landscape was interesting. This had to stop… He cleared his throat bravely…

            “So… you guys-”

            “Shut the fuck up, Matt. Just don’t.”

            Matt looked over to the S.O.U.N.D. engineer who had spoken. Steve Negrete, the ‘lucky’ one who got to drive back from the venue, was staring darkly at the road, not even bothering to turn around.

            “How ‘bout you shut up, Steve. Don’t yell at Matt.”

            Matt pulled a face as the One-Man-Band, Michael Reed, shot back. This… was going to get ugly. This drive was going to be longer then he thought.

            Steve turned sharply in his chair to glare at Michael and opened his mouth to snarl back a retort.

            A badly masked whimper stopped him short.

            All of the humans turned to look at the back of the bus. In the smallest corner they could find, all three of the automatons where huddled together. The Spine sat in the center with his arms wrapped protectively over his brothers, his green eyes staring out at nothing. Hatchworth was to his left, his blue eyes flickering back and forth, before calming to rest at the floor with a drawn face, taking in the embrace of his brothers… then his eyes started flickering again. Rabbit, however, wasn’t looking far away like the others. He was looking at Steve and Michael, photoreceptors wide with approaching panic.

            “Are they go-going to fight, now?” Rabbit whispered, just loud enough to carry over the noise of the bus.

            The Spine shifted to hold his older brother tighter, still not saying anything and not moving his optics from the mile-long stare out a darkened window.

            Steve turned back to the road and Michael just shook his head.

            There were no more words spoken during the trip. Each member occupied with their own thoughts. Their own theories on what happened. Their own ideas on who was to blame.

* * *

            The calm before the storm.

            It may be over poetic, but that was exactly how Matt felt as he sat in the ‘living’ area of the hotel suite that the band had reserved for the weekend long venue.

            As soon as they had arrived, the automatons made a bee-line for one of the rooms in the suite. While the robots technically didn’t need to have a room set aside for them, they enjoyed the privacy. It also helped to muffle the sounds that they made so their humans could sleep without being interrupted.

            Steve went directly to the other room in and closed the door. Michael locked himself in the washroom. Matt knew that was temporary solution. It was the drummer’s turn to sleep on the fold out in the living area so Michael and Steve would have face each other eventually. Plus, Michael was in the only washroom in the suite, not a good place to find sanctuary. It was only a matter of time.

            Matt made a note to himself that if he ever got into a fight with the band, he would opt to sleep in the bus.

            The drummer found himself wishing that the Walter Girls were with them. They may be odd, but their professional presence always seemed to help defuse high tenstion situations. Unfortunately, the Walter Girls were called back to the manor immediately after the show ended for some sort of vaguely explained Blue-Matter related emergency. Matt could only guess what fresh madness awaited them when they did return.

            The uneasy silence was broken only after fifteen minutes as Steve came out of the room. He looked over to Matt who gave a half smile and shrugged. Steve mimicked the motion but his eyes fell on the door to the room that the 'bot’s claimed and his smirk fell. He tilted his dreadlocked head over to it and Matt just shook his in answer.

            Steve sighed in frustration before he said under his breath, “’m sorry I cussed at you earlier.”

            “It’s cool, man. Don’t worry about it.” Matt brushed off the apology. “Whatcha doin’?”

            “Bathroom,” Steve started heading over to the restroom.

            “Mike’s in there.”

            Steve stopped himself. He looked at the door with a shake of his head, then started for the door that lead out into the hall instead.

             The S.O.U.N.D. engineer stopped again. He looked back and forth at the two doors and took a hissing breath, letting it out as slowly as possible, trying to decide… Matt couldn’t help but smile at the other man’s indecision.

            “Screw it,” Steve finally growled and knocked on the washroom door.

            The door opened with a sharp click and Michael Reed raised an eyebrow at the other. “Yeah?”

            Michael looked worse for wear. He was frequently exhausted after a show that required a lot of technical finesse to get though. This one had taxed him completely, Matt wasn’t even sure what the One-Man-Band did to stop the automatons from doing… well… Whatever it was they were going to do.

            Steve just gave him a dry look. “What do you think?”

            Michael glowered and stepped aside. But right before the door closed, he said, “Try not to make mess in there too.”

            The door stopped half way closed and then it slammed open. “You wanna do this? Alright. Let’s do this.”

            Matt stood up. Ready for anything.

            But Michael looked over to Matt and shook his head slightly. The look in his face was a definite, ‘we could use a little space’ expression.

            And Matt was too happy to oblige.

            “I’m goin’ to get something to drink. You guys want anything? No? Cool.”

            With that, Matt left the room and headed toward the lobby, deciding that he would give them some time and when he got back, all the problems would have resolved themselves. It will be just fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to reiterate the trigger warning about the bad language for this chapter. There will be some fighting and real strong language in this one. I apologize if anyone (*cough*cough*michaelreed*cough*cough*) seems a bit out of character in this chapter. I have never seen Michael in any other state then sweetly smiling and happy, I have no idea how he would fight and had to take some creative liberties. But I do know how friends can get when emotions are running high and there is no escape in sight. Please enjoy!

 

 

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**   


* * *

            Matt was heading back to the room. He felt good. He found a cute barista, got some relaxing tea and then took a walk around the hotel grounds. It had taken him about an hour, more than enough time for the others to have patched things up and start acting like a band that liked each other again.

            “Excuse me? Young man?”

            Matt turned to the voice of an older woman, peeking her head outside of a room.

            “Uh… yes? Can I help you?”

            “If you are headed down the hall, could you maybe give a knock on the door of those people that are making such a racket?”

            “I don’t hear any-”

            The sound of a distorted masculine yell down the hall cut him short. It sounded something like ‘you are so full of shit!’ Wonderful. Guess they weren’t finished fighting after all.

            He hesitated, thinking he should take his own advice and sleep in the bus… but decided against it. They might need a cool head in there.

            Giving a sympathetic smile, the woman closed her door and Matt headed down the hall, stopped at the door and took a steadying breath.

            The two men were in the sitting room now, faces flushed and eyes hard. They didn’t even turn to look at Matt as he returned and Steve didn’t miss a beat as they continued their fight.

            “Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s because YOU are the one who knows them inside and out! You are Michael Reed. The great and powerful One-Man-Band.”

            “Don’t even try to blame this on me. There is NOTHING I could have changed that would have caused a malfunction like… like that! This was a catastrophic failure! This was an overriding the ‘vow of peace’ type of malfunction. It could have reset them to old programming, non-compatible programming. There is no physical thing I could have done to cause something like THAT! It had to have been something you loaded them with.”

            “I didn’t load them with shit! All I did was run the start-up protocol, like we always do! There is nothing I did different.”

            “You must have done SOMETHING different, ran incorrect protocols, or start up got out of order-”

            “Right. Yeah. As if I haven’t been doing this for years and don’t know that system inside and out? I know what I’m doing, Reed, this isn’t my fault.”

            “Maybe you made a mistake. Maybe you slipped up, I mean you do know the system SO well-”

            “I’m telling you. Right now. There is no way to get a malfunction like that to happen on my end. You started fiddling with then before the set started, you must have broken something.”

            “Bullshit! It was routine tightening and checking! This was clearly an upload packaging issue which is what YOU are supposed to be responsible for.”

            “So, you are saying it is my fault that they were about to kill everyone?”

            “Yes. Yes I am. They WERE working in tip-top condition. There was nothing going on inside of them that would cause this. This is an outside issue.”

            “They were fine during the ENTIRE first sets, not a HITCH before, there is no reason for something like… THAT to happen. You are the only one who could have fucked it up!”

            “Not a hitch? Really? What are you calling that busted start up then?!”

            “Come on guys,” Matt started, standing between the two friends turned combatants, a dangerous position to be in, but someone had play referee. The two men had slowly gotten closer to each other as they fought and Matt knew they were one shove away from getting into a real dangerous fight. “We clearly don’t know what caused it, so arguing like this really isn’t helping anything. For all we know it was just a weird-ass glitch.”

            “Or it was a compensation error,” Steve said snidely causing Michael to be stunned for a second.

            “What’s a compensation error?” Matt asked nervously, not sure what would make Michael look like someone just slapped him.

            Steve appeared to ignore the question, continuing as if Matt hadn’t spoken. “No one is considering the possibility that this only happened because SOMEONE isn’t enforcing upgrades. We keep getting better and better tech and unless everyone is onboard with it, and do mean EVERYONE, it is possible to get-”

            “Are you saying,” Michael cut him off, his voice was like venom, “that this is MY fault, because RABBIT refuses upgrades?”

            Steve just looked severely at the One-Man-Band.

            Michael let out a bark of a laugh “Ok… first of all you shouldn’t talk about stuff you don’t anything about. A COMPENSATION error would NOT cause a malfunction like what we saw today. Compensation errors are what Rabbit gets every time he sings goddamed Honeybee. THAT is a compensation error. Not ‘let’s delete the first law and kill the paying audience who thinks this is all an elaborate act’!”

            The arguing pair was interrupted as the door to the automatons’ room opened and The Spine stepped into the living area, carefully closing the door behind him.

            “Oh, no,” The Spine started, his voice cordially cold, “please don’t let me interrupt.”

            Steve gave Michael a dark look, as if to say ‘this isn’t over, Reed’ then turned to the new arrival. “Hey Spine, how are you guys doing in there?”

            “I need to talk with you all. This is important.” A pause. “When you finish your discussion of course.”

            If there was sarcasm in the baritone voice, no one could hear it.

            “It’s fine, The Spine,” Michael said, looking exhausted at the automaton. “I think we are just about done here.”

            The Spine nodded stiffly then started again, “Thank you. We have come to a decision. My brothers and I.” His speech halted, and he filled his bellows for what was coming next. He put on the most robotic and neutral face he could manage. “My brothers and I have decided that we need to stop preforming.”

            The three humans were stunned. As if they couldn’t comprehend what the robot had just told them (so much so that The Spine tilted his head, wondering if he perhaps broke them somehow.) But the words did finally register and everyone started to talk at once.

            “What- No! There is absolutely no need for that-”

            “You guys can’t be serious! You can’t just MAKE a decision like-”

            “You- No, You- don’t get to make that call.”

            Michael finally came forward and placed his hands on The Spine’s shoulders causing the taller mechanical man to hunch down to they could meet eye to eye.

            “Listen to me, The Spine. Don’t overreact to this. We are going to figure out what went wrong and we are going to fix it.”

            The Spine’s eyes flickered with emotion as he met Michael Reed’s gaze seriously. “Mr. Reed, you don’t realize how dangerous that malfunction was. You don’t know what we…” He faltered again, he couldn’t force the words out. “What we… almost did. We simply cannot afford to do this anymore.”

            Michael let go of The Spine as he straightened, feeling a painful pit in his stomach as the machine man continued.

            “We need to stop. We need to stop preforming.”

            At first Michael had no words, it felt like they had all been knocked from him. When he found his voice again the words seemed to run into each other trying to deny what The Spine was saying.

            “That is… no… there is no reason… that is 100% over kill! There is no reason to shut you guys down. We ARE going to fix it. It is going to be fine.”

            The Spine shook his head sadly. It was clear that he wanted to believe what the One-Man-Band was saying, but his logic circuits wouldn’t let him agree with empty promises. “Until we know what happened; until we know what went wrong and how, it’s not safe for us to continue.”

            At that, everyone seemed to have found their breath and starting talking over each other again.

            “We will figure it out. You can trust us.”

            “This is just crazy talk. You’re saying things… crazy… crazy things.”

            “You guys are seriously overreacting. You need to stay calm and not blow this out of proportion.”

            The Spine lifted his hands in an authoritative silencing motion. It was a gesture that he had used countless times on the battlefield and almost flinched when he saw that he was using it on his friends. It worked however, and the three humans were silent.

            Turning sharply to lock gaze with Michael, he asked, “Mr. Reed, do you know what caused the malfunction?”

            Michael licked his lips, almost nervously, but couldn’t think of anything to say except for, “Well… no. But-”

            Before he could continue, The Spine turned to look at Steve, asking, “Mr. Negrete, do you know what caused the malfunction?”

            Steve looked pointedly at Michael and said, “I have a pretty good theory.”

            “Do you KNOW what caused the malfunction?” The Spine repeated. The automaton did not look away and the S.O.U.N.D. engineer found himself feeling a bit sheepish.

            “I guess… no.”

            The Spine then turned to the newest member, who had never seen the usually infinitely patient automaton demand anything from them. Matt took a step back before he realized what he was doing.

            “Mr. Smith, do you know what caused the malfunction?”

            “I… I don’t… I don’t pretend to know anything about what happened earlier.”

            The Spine released a vent of steam, seeming both satisfied with their answers and also disappointed. “Well, with that in mind, we can agree no one knows what caused the malfunction at tonight show. This means it could happen again at any time.”

            The Spine stopped again, letting his words rest in the room for a bit before continuing. “I think it would be much safer if we went back home. I-We don’t want to risk hurting anyone."

            There was a break; but only for a second before Michael continued the argument. “We-No. We can’t leave yet! We have a show tomorrow. It’s sold out! A huge venue. We can’t just leave and cancel. We are too far into this. Think of the… It would be a PR nightmare! We need this gig, The Spine. We don’t perform, we don’t get paid. We don’t get paid, I can’t keep you and your brothers working.” 

            Steve chimed in at this point as well. “It was just a bad set, Spine. Bad sets happen, man, every band has them once in a while.”

            “Yes, but when MOST bands have a bad set they get booed off the stage, not almost murder the audience!” The Spine snapped, his voice raised and cracking at the end.

            Another vent of steam released as the automaton tried to regain control of himself. He could feel his oil pressure rising and threatening to leak out his optics. The Spine’s head ticked nosily as he fought with himself.

            The group was silent for a moment, watching with caution as The Spine worked to calm himself.

            “Steve is right though, The Spine,” Michael continued after a pause, “Even from the beginning… things were off. It was just a bad set. It spooked you guys, hell, spooked us too. But that is not going to happen again." 

            The automaton’s attempt at composure was shattered at the words and his titanium spine locked straight with an audible snap.

            “Do not lie to me! You cannot guarantee that this won’t happen again! I know the difference… We are dangerous. We are not preforming anymore. We are going home. We are going back to the Walter manor until we can figure this out.”

            The vertebrae on The Spine’s neck raised like heckles as he spoke, the metallic spines sliding out slightly with a small hiss and he said firmly: “That is what we have decided.” 

            Matt, who was standing behind The Spine at this time, noticed the change in his back. He nervously retreated a few more steps back.

            Michael, on the other hand took a step forward. All the frustration at Steve and the show compiling into one direction, right at The Spine. He was hurt at their lack of trust in him and his abilities and, if he were completely honest, he did feel responsible for the malfunction. But his fight with Steve had hardened his usually easy going nature and this robot was tap dancing on his last nerve.

            “You do not get to decide anything, do you hear me?!”

            The spines slid back with a click and the automaton found himself taken aback at the harsh words from the man. 

            “What are you…? Are you saying that we cannot refuse?”

            Steve sent Michael a warning look, but it was too late. Michael had the words out before he could stop himself. 

            “Listen carefully, here is what we ARE going to do. We are going to finish the gig this weekend. We are going to get through this set tomorrow. THEN we are going to back home. We have come too far to stop for some bullshit ‘once-thus-far’ error.”

            The Spine understood all too easily. You are a machine. You are a belonging. You don’t get a choice.

            “I can’t believe I am hearing this…” The metal man stared uncertainly, the normally confident tone sounding confused, nervous and hurt. “I don’t know how else I can say this. We are not safe. You can’t do this, please. We do not want to perform. Please Michael-Mr. Reed. Please listen to me.”

            It was at this point that Matt couldn’t keep silent. He had never seen any of the robot’s… beg before. It was disturbing… it seemed more then wrong.

            “For Christ’s sake, Mike!”

            Michael shot a glare over at the drummer, but softened when he saw the pained expression he was giving off.

            “Maybe we are all being a little hasty?” Steve offered, looking uneasily at the group. “How ‘bout we get some debug info off the sound board. We can read what it says and make a decision then. Okay?”

            Michael shook his head but didn’t say anything to the contrary. The Spine just let out a series of clicks and a vent of steam as he worked to lower his rising temperature and oil pressure. He said nothing and simply turned to the room that the other automatons were, closed up behind a shut door.

            “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, we’ll sleep on it,’ then.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not real powerful trigger warning for this on, just automaton's acting under stress. I finally get to write all the 'bots together in this one! Yay!  
> Some of my head-canon comes to play in this one and I try to describe it as briefly and clearly as possible. I do hope it doesn't confuse anyone!  
> Sorry this one's a little shorter then the others... natural breaks will come were they will I suppose. Happy reading

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

            Rabbit hadn’t listened at the door after The Spine went out to talk with the humans. He didn’t want to know how things were going out there. He’d just wait for The Spine to come back. Unfortunately, he couldn’t avoid picking up on the voices when they rose to a shouting volume… both he and Hatchworth flinched each time.

            Rabbit had to be strong for his younger brothers; Pappy would never forgive him if he let them stay so scared. He tried to comfort the old stove. He told him how The Spine once talked down a highway man back in 1902. He told him about the time The Spine saved The Jon and Rabbit from getting thrown to a dimension of rust by convincing the Becile agent that attacked them that The Jon was his long lost brother.

            “The Spine’s one smooth customer, yessiree,” Rabbit said with a wink. “If anyone can make the humans understand, it would be him.”

            Hatchworth found himself calmed at the stories. “The Spine has a high charisma.”

            “He could roll a 1 and still save the day,” Rabbit chimed in, happy to see his bother coming out of his dark musings. “Did I ever tell you about the time The Spine challenged a dragon to a game of riddles in Kazooland?”

            Rabbit talked quickly, and the lauding of The Spine’s conversation skills gave him confidence that everything was going to work out and they were going to be alright.

            Soon, the raised voices stopped leaking though the door. Rabbit couldn’t make out what was being said and he tried to crush out any nervous ticking that threatened to start. The Spine must have made them come to their senses. He must have.

            Rabbit jumped as The Spine entered into the room at last. His mismatched optics moved quickly, trying to analyze this younger brother’s purposefully blank face.

            The Spine closed and locked the door behind him.

            Not a good sign. Rabbit felt his (metaphorical) heart sink. He had to stay positive though, for Hatchy’s sake if not his own.

            “Hey, cowboy,” Rabbit started, forcing himself to keep his voice clear of glitches, “how did it go out there?”

            “We are going home now?” Hatchworth asked uneasily.

            The Spine just looked down, the impassive face he held for the humans crumbling into a look of defeat.

            “They refused to listen. They said we are playing the show tomorrow.”

            Rabbit started to shake his head in an unconscious motion of denial. Hatchworth just looked hollow, looking down as he pulled away from his older brother’s reach.

            “Th-that doesn’t ma-ma-make any logi-i-i-i- *TICK* logical sense, The Spine! We can’t perform. People could get hurt!”

            “I told them, but they didn’t listen. They said they would ‘sleep’ on it.”

            “That doesn’t m-mean anything!” Rabbit barked, surprising himself with his vehemence but since he was on a roll, he decided to go with it. “How can they be so foolish?”

            “I’m sorry,” The Spine’s voice was barley a whisper, “I failed us.”

            “Don’t you DARE blame yourself, The Spine.” Rabbit took hold if his taller brother, his worry giving way to his protective nature. “This isn’t your fault.”

            The Spine didn’t react to the comfort. He didn’t meet the others gaze as green photoreceptors looked brokenly at the floor.

            Rabbit released him and started to pace in the room, a habit that he had developed after seeing Peter Walter I do it when he was thinking.

            “Well, if our human’s won’t listen to reason, then we will have to make them!” Rabbit turned to his brothers with the face of a robot that had a clever plan. “They can put us on that stage but we don’t have to say one word or play one note! They can’t make us preform.”

            “Actually, Rabbit, they can.”

            Rabbit looked at The Spine who had finally taken his eyes off the floor and was looking at his older brother.

            “No,” Rabbit said decisively. “No, they can’t. They can’t make us-”

            “Michael knows the protocol codes.” The Spine cut him off.

            Rabbit was stunned that The Spine would suggest such a thing. Michael. Pulling protocol codes on them. On his friends.

            “Michael wouldn’t do that,” Rabbit wouldn’t even consider such an outlandish and out of character thing. “Michael would never use protocol codes on us. He’s our friend. He’s my friend! He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t take away our control like that.”

            “The last Mr.Reed would-”

            “Michael is BETTER than his me-me-mentor!” Rabbit screeched. “He understands us! He wouldn’t! He wouldn’t…”

            Rabbit’s conviction faded at The Spine’s silence. How could he think that Michael Reed, the one man band, their friend, would betray them so completely as to use protocol codes? Force them to obey. Treat them like… machines.

            Not that protocol codes were bad, many of them were necessary to run a show. It helped keep the robots in time with each other and know what song came next. But those were all pre-picked and wanted by the affected members of the band. ‘Pulling protocol,’ as they had taken to calling it, is when someone forces a protocol to run without consent.

            For as long as the band had known Michael, the only time he ever pulled protocol was during a show at the zoo where the ‘Honeybee’ hang-up was worse than normal. Rabbit got stuck and was progressively getting louder and louder with no signs of stopping. Audience members had their hands over their ears, kids started crying, animals started to get upset at the noise, it was a mess. Out of options, Michael had forced the emergency shut-down protocol on Rabbit. While Rabbit didn’t speak to Michael for a week after the event, they ultimately decided that it was a justified use. Michael had promised to only use the codes when absolutely necessary. Unlike their last primary engineer…

            “Michael wouldn’t do that.” Rabbit repeated, but the surety was gone. The automaton started pacing again.

            “We could run away.” The copper bot suggested.

            “Run? Run where? How far do you think antique steam powered signing musical automatons can go without being found.” The Spine almost felt the need to roll his eyes at the suggestion.

            “Well, then why don’t YOU suggest something?” Rabbit shot back, feeling increasingly desperate. Increasingly trapped.

            “I say, we wait until morning. The humans said they would sleep on it and Michael and Steve are going to get a debug readout of the concert from the sound system. Maybe they will find something on their own-”

            “Worst. Idea. Ever! We-we-we-we can’t leave this to may-maybes!”

            “He is right, The Spine.” The two bots looked at their previously silent brother and Hatchworth stood to look at them. “I have a plan.”

            “Attaboy, Hatchy!” Rabbit cheered.

            “What did you have in mind?” The Spine prompted eagerly.

            Hatchworth put a hand on his chest plate. “I can’t tell you yet. After everyone goes to sleep, then I’ll tell you.”

            The Spine and Rabbit looked at each other and shrugged, finding somewhere more comfortable to wait. Once Hatchworth made up his mind, he was as unmovable as a mountain.

            Rabbit moved to one of the beds and curled up, not caring if he leaked on the sheets.

            The Spine sat down on a reinforced chair and looked at the novel he had brought with him… but couldn’t bring himself to read it. He wished he were back home in the Hall of Wires. It was a good place for thinking.

            Hatchworth stared out the windows, looking at the tour bus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna explain my two relevant head canons here for those that are interested (or just really confused): 
> 
> In my head canon, the Reed Family has worked with Walter Robotics for generations. The automatons have seen many a engineer, and not all of them were has patient and pleasant to be around as Micheal Reed.
> 
> The protocol codes are codes that Walter the first programmed into each of his creations after being pressured by the concerned members of the Cavalcadium that having completely autonomous, self aware machines with free will was dangerous without some sort of fail safe. The code's are primarily behavioral, most are benign but some are dangerous. Walter made them able to accept new codes, and many have been added as time wore on, but they never forget one once it had been added.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Yulemas, one and all!   
> There aren't any real trigger warnings for this chapter, just more automatons in distress and the threat of physical menace. I apologize for the short chapter again, but there is a big one on it's way! (I'm on holiday break from work... so hopefully I'll get the next one out quickly!)

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

It was a long wait for the humans to fall asleep.

Steve and Michael had to put aside their blame game and worked on hooking up the sound board for a debug readout. But, without the internet to speed up the process, it was going to take all night to download. Michael wouldn’t let them use the hotel’s wireless for security reasons (paranoia reasons more like, was Steve’s response) and the idea that they could use one of the robot’s wireless was shot down as soon as it was brought up.

None of them wanted to go in there.

Not after that fight.

After getting the board set up and out of the way, they were all exhausted; too exhausted for Michael and Steve to complain about having to share the room. Matt was asleep before they even closed the door.

At 1:30 am the automatons left the hotel.

Hatchworth didn’t give his plan away, all he said was: “We need to get to the bus.”

They weren’t very stealthy. Nothing that weighed as much as they did with as noisy a functional state as they had could ever be called ‘quiet,’ but Matt didn’t stir and they didn’t run into anything.

When they unlocked the bus, Hatchworth told his brothers to wait in the cab and went to the storage bins.

“Hatchmeiser?” Rabbit called, turning on his old night vision feature with a metallic whine. “You think you could drop the my-mysterious act and tell us what is goin’ on?”

The Spine silently agreed and switched his optics to night vision display as well.

“We need to be ready if they make us perform tomorrow. If they won’t listen to us.” Hatchworth’s voice came from the open door, it sounded like he was moving something heavy.

Hatchworth returned to the cab where his brothers waited, half –dragging, half-carrying a large, black, solid box with him. The Spine’s eyes narrowed at it. That box was where Michael Reed kept all his tools while on tour.

The old oven opened the box, the metallic objects contained in it glinting with a sickly green shade in the night vision sight.

“We need to protect them, if they will not protect themselves.”

The Spine froze when he saw the object that Hatchworth pulled out. The wielding torch.

“Hey buddy,” Rabbit said, holding his hands out in a cautionary pose. “What are you planning on doin’ with that?”

“There is another way to make sure everyone is safe. If we can’t stop ourselves consciously…” Hatchworth held up the torch, his face completely serious, “then we must stop ourselves physically.”

Hatchworth undid the buttons on his red and black shirt, his core glowing blue underneath the chest panel.

“I don’t really know what you guys are going to do, but I know what I have to do.” Hatchworth placed a hand on the seam on his chest plate, the door to the hatch where the void was. Where the canon was. Where his arsenal was.

“Hatchworth,” The Spine said seriously, taking an uneasy step towards the brass automaton, “what are you planning on doing?”

“I’ll need a hand,” He started again, looking at The Spine with no fear in his eyes. “I’m going to weld my seam shut. That way, if we have another malfunction, I won’t be able to use the cannon.”

“Th-this is a little extreme, Hatchy,” Rabbit said, shooting a worried look over to the titanium robot. “I don’t think self mu-mu-mutilation-”

“If I don’t do this, and something happens… They will lock me away again. They will lock all of us away.” Hatchworth’s eyes seemed unfocused as he spoke.

“Hatchworth,” The Spine began gently, taking a step forward to the other.

“I won’t be locked in the vault again!” Hatchworth snapped viciously. The Spine stopped his advance in surprise.

“I won’t be locked away again… This is a small price to pay for freedom.”

“Are you sure about this, Hatchy?” Rabbit stood next to The Spine, mirroring his brother’s concerned expression.

“Oh yes,” Hatchworth replied, his tone lightening again. “This can only end positively. Either we don’t have a malfunction and Michael will repair me when we get back to the manor or we do malfunction and no one dies because I couldn’t open my hatch.”

Rabbit looked over at The Spine with a smile. “You know, that’s not a half bad idea.”

The Spine looked thoughtful before shaking his head. “I’m not sure this is going to work fellahs…”

“We have to try.” Hatchworth said firmly. He tuned to Rabbit. “You are the king of self-repair, care to try to be the king of disrepair?”

Rabbit looked at the wielding torch uneasily, but The Spine stepped forward first.

“You’ll need someone with a steady hand for that.”

Within 10 minutes, they got Hatchworth out of his costume and led him to lay flat on the bus floor. The Spine was kneeling beside him with the torch in one hand and Michael’s industrial gloves in position to catch any rouge sparks in the other. Rabbit was kneeling on the other side, with his hands grasped tightly around his brother’s.

“Th-th-this is gonna hurt, Hatchy,” Rabbit said, his voice tight. “But I’ll be here the whole time.”

“I know. Don’t worry friend-o, it will be over soon,” Hatchworth gave a bright smile to his brothers and The Spine gave a nod. He flicked the torch on and it flared to life with a hiss.

Taking a steadying breath, The Spine moved the flame closer, deciding on the angle he would need to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“Wait!” Hatchworth cried and The Spine dropped back immediately.

“What? What is it?”

“Let me turn my audio off, so I don’t wake anyone.” And with a click Hatchworth’s voice was disengaged.

“You watch him, Rabbit.” The Spine looked at the copper ‘bot seriously. “You tell me if I need to stop.”

“Y-y-you got it, doc.”

“Ready?”

A nod.

The silence of the night was disturbed with the sounds of high pitched, electric whining and crackles of the welder. The darkness was split as the sparks flew from the work done inside the bus.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, all fair internet people.  
> I wanted to reiterate a T!W for this one, there will be some stronger language then the last two chapters had in them.  
> I hope you all enjoy the longer chapter!

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

           Morning came and the band members woke refreshed.

           Michael and Steve gave a half smile at each other. They may not be ‘good’ yet, but they were getting there.

           Matt was so soundly asleep it took the ungodly noise that the coffee grinder made to wake him.

           “Jesus, guys…” He said groggily, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, “can’t we do a Starbuck’s run like a normal band?”

           “I like the fresh ground taste, dude, you can’t beat it,” Steve pulled a face as he ran the grinder for two more pulses.

           “You do know that most coffee shops grind fresh too, right?”

           Steve held up the can of coffee beans with an unfamiliar label. “But they don’t have my blend.”

           Matt just wordlessly groaned and got up, helping Michael pull out the sound board. The readout was finished and it was time to transfer the data onto the laptop.

           With a round of fresh coffee, and three humans huddled around the screen, Steve read through the document, muttering to himself as he scrolled though lines of numbers and text.

           Eventually, Matt got bored and moved over to the room the automatons were in. He pressed his head against the door, listening to see if they were still in sleep mode. But it was silent and he couldn’t hear anything.

           “So… this is kinda weird,” Steve said looking at the screen as if it were trying to sell him a used watch. “It looks like it really was a freak coding error. Earlier in the show, when they wouldn’t start up, one of their executables got corrupted…”

           “But that doesn’t make sense…” Michael muttered, pointing at a line of code. “If it was corrupted they wouldn’t have started up at all. Not until we did a full system reset, at least.”

           “Well, we didn’t really do anything to make then turn on,” Steve admitted. “The audience just kinda screamed at them for a while and they started up by themselves…”

           Michael looked concerned. “You think that’s what caused it?”

           “What?”

           “Like… ok, what if they heard the screaming and that set 001-1897 into the run que? And during the set it got grabbed to be the next files to process?”

           Steve shrugged. “That makes sense, I guess. That might explain the gaps in the code here…”

           “With that reasoning, as long as we power them on completely behind the scenes… they should run normally.”

           Steve nodded happily. “Yeah, like how we did it back at the Zoo! I think I can swing that easily enough. There is a risk of overloading Rabbit’s processors but if we take a mid-set break he should be fine.” He paused, then added: “Beebop is gonna be pissed though...”

           Michael smiled tersely at the thought of telling the stoic machine that he won’t be needed to govern the song set. “We can tell him after the show. He’ll get over it”

            Steve chuckled, then looked up at Michael with a real smile. “I guess we won’t have to throw the gig after all.”

           “They’ll be happy to hear that,” Matt said dryly, knocking softly at the robots’ door. “Hey guys, up and att’em!”

           No answer.

           “I’m coming in guys. Hope you’re decent,” Matt joked lightly as he opened the door into the room and turned on the light. He stopped short.

           “Uh, guys?” Matt called to the humans in the front room. Hearing the tone, they both rushed over.

           The room was empty.

           “So… what do we do now?”

           Michael didn’t say anything and started looking around the room, in the closet, under the bed and behind doors. The automatons were not hiding in the room anywhere.

           “Did they DITCH us?” Steve asked bewildered.

           “I know The Spine was upset last night… but I can’t believe they would just… leave us here,” Matt was struggling to get his head around the idea of the robots running away. It was so out of character for them, he couldn’t process the thought.

           “They can’t have gotten far,” Michael said tersely, his eyes hard and his jaw tight with concealed rage and fear. If they ran away… If they got hurt or something happened to them, it would be his fault.

           Standing quickly, The One-Man-Band turned and faced the others. “Ok, here’s what we are going to do. Matt, you go check the hotel, ask if any of the night staff saw some robots wandering around last night. Steve, you and I have to get to the bus, I think they would have headed towards the highway.”

           “You think they’d try to catch a ride?” Steve asked, shrugging on his jacket and reaching in the pockets, looking for the keys. Matt dashed into the bathroom to change out of his night clothes.

           “I think so. I just hope no one felt like picking up a trio of robot hitch-hikers.”

           Matt flew out of the washroom, ‘dressed’ well enough to start looking around the lobby. He was out the door in a flash.

           Steve, however, stopped his march. His face paled as he checked his other pockets. “Oh. Oh no.”

           Michael couldn’t bring himself to ask.

           “I can’t find the keys, dude.”

           Michael cursed under his breath and ran to the window, followed by the S.O.U.N.D. engineer. When they saw the bus was still in the parking lot, they let out a collective sigh of relief.

           “None of them can drive,” Michael said, heading to the door. “They aren’t dexterous enough for that kind of activity. I’m glad they didn’t try it.”

           “And… if they took the keys with them?” Steve asked pensively.

           Michael paused, then went to the restroom. He unhinged the metal towel bar from the wall and felt its weight in his hands. If the robots took the keys, they can always get in through a window.

           Nodding seriously, the two men headed out to the parking lot. As they passed the through the lobby, they saw Matt was already in a heated conversation with the manager, trying to explain what exactly an ‘automaton’ was.

           “We should call the Walter manor as soon as we get on the road,” Steve started as they approached the old tour bus. “It is possible that they got a ride last night are half way to old house by now.” Steve paused for a beat as they walked, feeling his worry starting to change into frustration. “God dammit! They would’da never tired a stunt like this if the Walter Girls were with us!”

           Michael nodded, but didn’t say anything. He really didn’t want to have to tell the Walters that their robot band ran away. That could only lead to trouble for all of them.

           Steve walked up to the door and tried the handle.

           “It’s unlocked!”

           “Thank goodness…” Michael said tiredly, grateful for the break, no matter how small. “Maybe they left the keys in there too.”

            They both rushed in and both almost fell over in surprise when they saw three singing musical automatons resting in sleep mode onboard.

           Their relief turned to icy dread as they looked at the ‘bots.

           Hatchworth was stripped of his costume and appeared to have severe scaring to his side panels and hatch door. On closer inspection Michael saw it was melted shut. He also noticed his welding torch was out and he felt his heart drop.

           The Spine appeared to be undamaged, but suspicious amounts of dark oil shone on the black fabric of the sleeve his left arm. Michael took note that his nail gun was also out with the torch near the titanium robot.

           Rabbit was missing his right arm. It didn’t appear to be broken off, but removed the conventional way. There were no lose wires or striped screws, it appeared to have been done carefully and deliberately. Looking around however, Michael didn’t see the arm anywhere.

           “Holy shit, what the hell happened in here?” Steve breathed.

           Michael pulled out his phone and stepped out of the bus to call Matt and tell him that they found ‘bots. Steve stayed in, trying to get them to power up.

           It didn’t take much. Photoreceptors slid open as sleep modes deactivated.

           “Good morning, friend-Steve,” Hatchworth said happily.

           “You guys have a wild party in here last night?” Steve asked, relieved to see them all powering up correctly.

           The Spine only looked confused at the question so he continued. “It’s just, usually when someone wakes up after being unconscious on the floor butt naked, that’s a bad sign.”

           Hatchworth, just noticing that he was missing his clothes, looked embarrassed and excused himself to get dressed.

           “But seriously, what the hell?” Steve asked, looking at The Spine and Rabbit.

           “It’s alright, Steve,” The Spine said cheerily. “We were just ‘battening down the hatches’ as it were.”

           Rabbit nodded decisively but said nothing.

           Now it was Steve’s turn to look confused.

           “On the off chance that you didn’t listen to me last night, we made some modifications to ensure that we are safe,” The Spine continued. “But I’m sure, after sleeping on it, you all have come to the conclusion that we should return to The Walter Manor as soon as possible.”

           “Actually, Spine, I have good news and bad news-”

           Steve was cut off as Michael reentered into the bus.

           “You guys scared the crap out of us… Good job telling us you’d be in the bus.” Michael said, feeling both giddy from the relief of finding them and sick at seeing them in such a state. The bus wasn’t in the best shape either. Several of the seats had scorch marks on the metal and it appeared that one of the seats may have caught on fire. From where the robots where resting there were shallow puddles of oil that had pooled into the cracks of the bus’ flooring.

           “We thought something had happened to you guys,” Matt said as he entered closely behind Michael, somewhat breathless from his sprint to the bus.

           “I’m not sure something didn’t,” Michael said seriously, looking at Rabbit’s missing arm. “Where’s your limb, Rabbit?”

           Rabbit just tweaked his lips and shrugged.

           “Come on, Rabbit, let’s not play this game.”

           Rabbit just stared at the One-Man-Band.

           “The Spine, where is Rabbit’s arm?”

           The Spine also shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t see where Rabbit put it.”

           “Spine, I’m serious, where is the arm?”

           “I’m being serious as well, Mr. Reed. I didn’t see where Rabbit hid it and he was very careful not to let me or Hatchy see, in case you asked us.”

           Rabbit winked his optics in a jaunty fashion and tipped his hat at Michael, still saying nothing. That was… unusual for the overly chatty robot.

           Hatchworth came out of the restroom, his costume correctly in place. He was obviously favoring his side, flinching whenever his offbeat walk brushed against it.

           With everyone gathered, The Spine looked back at Steve. “You were saying?”

           “I was?”

           “Good news and bad news.”

           “Oh yeah!” Steve started again. “What do you want to hear first?”

           “Bad news,” The Spine returned seriously.

           “Alright,” Steve said with a small smile, “the bad news is, you all damaged yourselves for no reason.”

           The relief was plain on all the automatons’ faces

           “Yeah, what did you guys do to yourselves anyway?” Matt asked.

           “Ah, you know, a little of this, a little of that. Nothing permanent.” The Spine said flippantly, gesturing with his right arm, his left hanging unnaturally still at his side.

           “Unless no one can find Rabbit’s arm, of course,” Hatchworth added.

           “Show me your arm, Spine,” Michael walked up to the tall automaton and The Spine helpfully held out his right arm.

           “Don’t be cute,” Michael said dryly. “Show me what you’ve done.”

           The Spine dropped the act and held up his left arm. Michael peaked under the sleeve. His eyes snapped wide and he grabbed hold of the material, tearing it off at the seam. Hiding under the cloth, The Spine had bound what looked like one of Rabbit’s toughest belts around his arm. Michael couldn’t make heads or tails of the flat knots that he had done and he could see many of them were tacked down with nails. He had been careful when placing the nails, only a few of them had earned an oil leak. The tempered, tough leather was pulled so tightly it was setting almost flush with the metal arm.

           “My God,” Michael breathed as he rotated the robotic limb.

           “Did you… shoot goddamn NAILS into your arm? What the hell, dude?” Steve exclaimed, horrified at the display. “This must have hurt…”

           “Still does, actually,” The Spine hissed as his arm was inspected by Michael, his sensory matrix spiking him with ‘pain’ signals as the compromised limb was manipulated.

           Shaking his head, Michael dropped he arm and moved over to Hatchworth. “I have a pretty good idea of what you did…”

           The Spine, realizing that he didn’t have a sleeve to cover up his wounded arm anymore, (and feeling Matt’s wide eyed stare) held it awkwardly behind him as he followed Michael.

           Michael took hold of the brass automaton’s shirt and undid the buttons. As he thought, the hatch on the chassis was welded shut; all the way around it. Completely sealed. It was a mess. The metal had melted smoothly enough, he though bitterly, he could be grateful for that.

           “It’s not permanent.” Hatchworth repeated, defensively doing back up his shirt.

           “You are lucky the seams are so straight,” Michael muttered. “I might be able to fix it when we get back. You really did a number on yourself.”

           “I had a good surgeon,” Hatchworth said proudly, looking at The Spine.

           Michael looked at the silver robot with a mix of disgust, fear and shock. “You did this?”

           The Spine didn’t meet the look. While he wasn’t ashamed of what he’d done (he felt he did a rather good job of it) he didn’t want to remember the look of pain of his brother’s face as he dragged the hot flame across his hatch door.

            Shaking his head in disbelieve, the One-Man-Band looked at the last steam-man. Rabbit tilted his head and gave him a light lipped smile.

            Before he could question him, The Spine spoke first. “Steve? You were saying you had good news?”

            “Uh… yeah.” Steve started uneasily, not sure how to process all the things he had just seen. “The, uh, good news is: We aren’t going to have to throw the show tonight.”

            The band was silent. Not even a creak of gears could be heard. They were completely still. Then Hatchworth started opening and closing his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. A thrumming could be heard in Rabbit’s chassis as small stress tremors started to shake him. The Spine was the first one to form words, a frozen smile on his lips.

            “So, you found what caused the malfunction last night.” It wasn’t a question.

            Steve looked at Michael and said. “We have an idea how to prevent it from happening again-”

            “That is not,” The Spine interrupted, his voice a strained calm, “what I asked, Mister Negrete.”

            “We know how to prevent it,” Michael repeated. “All you have to worry about is being ready for the show tonight.”

            “I knew this would happen…” Hatchworth said sadly, placing a hand on his chest piece.

            Ignoring the comment, Michael looked at Rabbit. “Tell me where your arm is so I can get it attached.”

            Rabbit put on his stubborn face and tried to cross his arms… but missing the other one made it impossible, so he just put a hand on his hip instead. He even tried to raise an eyebrow like The Spine was so fond of doing, but ended up raising both in a rather comical expression of surprise.

            “Fine, keep your secret,” Michael said sourly, turning to the other humans. “We have got to find that limb.”

            Steve smiled devilishly. “First one to find the arm is exempt from driving duty the whole trip back home!”

           With that prize on the line, all three of the human members took off. Michael went to search the room hotel room, taking the robots back with him. Steve started combing over the interior of the bus and Matt took the outside.

           Michael knew that Rabbit wouldn’t have thrown it away. While the automaton often enjoyed being a pain, he would never get rid of anything Peter Walter I built for him. The arm couldn’t have been far.

           And it wasn’t. Matt found the arm hiding safely behind a wheel bearing under the bus after about an hour and a half of searching. It was even positioned in a way that would protect it if they started driving. It was a clever spot, but not clever enough for Matt Not-The-Doctor Smith. He smacked the arm against the busses window, getting a good jump out of the S.O.U.N.D. engineer. After a quick victory high five, the two started for the hotel, hoping that Michael was having the same amount of luck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me that some may be confused about the reference to the bad start-up that the band is talking about when trying to deduce the cause of the error. As I understand it, before the 'malfunction incident,' the robots refused to start up correctly at the beginning of the set causing Steve to ask the gathered what they should do. The audience then proceeded to scream all their heads off and the automatons powered up. Here's the vid where I'm getting it from: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ek7jiEGEsQ
> 
> Also, a side note about BeeBop. (Sort of a head canon explanation thing again) As I understand it, BeeBop didn't have an obvious presence in the show back then then he does now, but that doesn't mean he wasn't involved. His ghoulish face has been seen all the way back in the art for Album One. I think that he was around back then, he just wasn't invited to be as vocal as he is now or have as much responsibility as he does now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello internet people!  
> I'm really sorry for the delay in chapter release for this one. Life amirite?  
> No real need to reiterate any of the trigger warning for this one, but if you were wondering why "Chipotle" was in the tags for this story... this is where it comes to play.  
> Please enjoy!

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

       Steve (a bit sour at not finding the arm) and Matt (bearing his prize with no concern that he was walking though the crowded lobby with a metallic limb in his hands) headed to the room. They were almost stopped by a couple of girls wearing familiar shirts that recognized them. Matt smiled at them and waved the robotic arm meaningfully saying, “Sorry ladies, gotta save the band from falling apart.” and the two men made for the elevator. Only moments later they were at the suite door.

       “I found it!” the drummer announced happily as he and Steve entered the room. The One-Man-Band was hovering over Hatchworth, who had his shirt open again so he could be inspected.

       The Spine was pacing, his torn shirt replaced with an identical black one. He had the debug readout in his hands and sis green eyes flicked over it, reading and studying it closely.

      Rabbit was sitting uneasily on a table, discovering that it was hard to stay balanced with only one arm.

       On seeing his arm, Rabbit’s photoreceptors widened and he looked as if he were about to bolt.

      “Close that door, guys!” Michael commanded and Steve obliged.

       Matt smiled at Rabbit and made the arm wave at him. Rabbit gave another tightlipped smile that came off manic looking.

       “Alright,” Michael took the arm from the drummer and walked up to its owner. “Please, Rabbit, don’t be difficult.”

       Mismatched optics looked over at the pacing automaton and he was given the smallest of nods. Rabbit let a vent of steam escape, then turned to expose the open shoulder joint to the engineer and silently waited for Michael to hook the arm back up and reconnected wires.

       “This gonna be a while?” Steve asked, looking at his phone. “I think I’m gonna get some lunch or somethin’, you guys want anything?”

       “Uh, sure,” Michael said, already starting to focus in on the work, not really listening to the offer.

       Steve shrugged at Matt and they both left, figuring that Michael would be fine alone with the ‘bots for a bit and they both headed out to find some Chipotle.

       Michael found that it was a clean removal and before long, the arm was connected and Rabbit did a quick check by flexing and tapping around on the copper plating.

       “How does that feel?" 

       Rabbit just shrugged.

       “How ‘bout you use your words?”

       Rabbit just smiled triumphantly… that made Michael look closer at the antique. Rabbit was never this quiet. Not ever. Something was wrong here.

       Taking the automaton’s head in his hands, he turned it back and forth. Nothing appeared to be wrong with the plating, other than the severe oxidizing that Rabbit was developing. More green then orange at this point. He needed to have a good polishing soon.

       The engineer moved his hands to guide Rabbit to open his mouth, but the joint didn’t budge. 

       “Hey, Rabbit, could you say ‘ahh’ for second?”

       No change.

       Michael took the jaw firmly in his hands and tried to pry it open, but no dice. Quickly wrenching the head up, Michael looked at the screws that held the mouth to the upper plates. They were tight. Much tighter then recommended. The screws were deep into the jaw. No wonder he was so quiet. The ‘bot couldn’t open his mouth at all.

       “Yeesh… that looks painful.” Michael reached for his screwdriver. But before he could raise it, Rabbit had knocked his hands away and jumped off the table, shaking his head and prancing away. 

       Michael looked over at the other two automatons, asking for a hand to catch Rabbit. But The Spine seemed thoroughly engrossed in the text he had and Hatchworth seemed to have no intention of helping at all has he looked out the window towards the concert hall they would be performing tonight… IF he could catch that Rabbit. 

* * *

       When Steve and Matt came back with burritos, (and dreams of when they could be famous enough to never pay for lunch again) they found the room in an impressive display of disarray.

       All the cabinets were open, one of them appeared to have been torn off its hinges. It looked like all the bedding was taken out of the rooms and turned into a sort of half-finished fort. The couch was moved, as was the dresser. The widows were wide open and all the doors were as well. The generic art on the walls were either skewed or simply on the ground. The only thing that seemed unchanged was The Spine (still reading) and Hatchworth (still watching the window). Even the sound board was moved, much to Steve’s distress.

       “So…” Matt started, munching on a chip, “what the hell happened in here?”

       The sound of something heavy hitting the ground drew the new occupants’ attention to one of the bedrooms. Peering into the room, they found a curious sight. Rabbit was trapped under a mattress with Michael Reed laying on top of it, a screw driver in one hand and a clothes hanger in the other. With one quick motion, Michael hooked the hanger under the chin plate of the robot, forcing the squirming metal man to look up. He then took the screw driver and started loosening the screws. With Rabbit trapped under the heavy hotel mattress, he couldn’t do anything but vent steam angrily as the engineer undid his clever plot to get out of preforming.

       In moments, Rabbit’s jaw was freed, earning a small bleeding of oil from where the overly tightened screws had nicked the lines in his upper mouth.

       “Finally!” Michael said jumping off the felled mattress with a triumphant look in his eye. He grabbed his burrito and threw a napkin at Rabbit as he squirmed his way out from under the mattress. “Don’t drip oil all over the place.”

       “Michael! Wait!” Rabbit called after him, holding the napkin that smelt of fresh tortillas and cumin under his jaw to catch any stray leak. “I kn-n-n-know you think we are safe now but we really aren’t! There is a better way to d-d-d-d-do this.”

       Michael ate is burrito decisively, appearing not to hear him.

       “What?! You work so hard to get me to t-t-t-t-talk again, then you don’t listen to me?!”

       Michael still pointedly ignored the robot, so the copper man turned to Steve.

       “Steve! You know how dangerous this is. Y-y-y-you were there, last night, you saw it all! Tell him we can’t perform! Tell him! Please!”

       Steve, his mouth full of beans, moved his hand over at The Spine, who was still going over the readout. “Heth goob tha peeper. C fo yosef”

       Not waiting to discover what that meant, Rabbit turned to Matt. “Doctor! I know you are k-kinda new to all this, but you haveta tell ‘em! Tell ‘em! Tell’emtell’emtell’emtell’em!”

       Matt rolled his eyes at Rabbit’s chatter, “I’m not the Doctor. I told you not to call me that.”

       Rabbit, seeing that he wasn’t getting anywhere while those burritos were in existence, stood against the wall, nursing his sore jaw, waiting for them to finish their late lunch.

       The humans looked at each other uneasily, finding it difficult to eat with an automaton staring at them. The only thing that broke the mismatched glare was The Spine. The other released a tremendous vent of steam, setting the papers he had been pouring over onto the table next to Michael. Green optics met blue eyes with a sad and knowing look, then the silver automaton turned to the rooms to put them back in some semblance of order after Michael’s rabbit hunt.

       Rabbit jumped on the abandoned text and looked over it. Sadly, he couldn’t make heads or tails of the text:

System.Runtime.InteropServices.COMException (0x78WR002-2013): Exception from HRESULT: 0x78WR002-2013 at System.Runtime.InteropServices.ComTypes.IConnectionPoint.Advise(Object pUnkSink, Int32\64& pdwSandwich) at SFXDevkit.SteamManBandEvents_EventProvider.add_OnStdNotify(SteamManBandEvents_OnStdNotifyEventHandler ) at SFXDevkit.SteamManBandConsoleClass.add_OnStdNotify(SteamManBandEvents_OnStdNotifyEventHandler )

       Rabbit dropped the pages like they were covered in acid. His logic processors already started to overheat, struggling to make sense of the little bit he had read, muttering that he hated computer talk. 

       “57 68 61 74 27 73 20 77 72 6f 6e 67 20 77 69 74 68 20 73 69 6d 70 6c 65 20 48 45 58 3f” With the string of text said at lighting speed, Rabbit followed The Spine, wanting the company of his brother while they waited.

       Hatchworth nodded slightly, “01001111 01110010 00100000 01100010 01101001 01101110 01100001 01110010 01111001 00111111”

       The humans all looked at each other, seeing if anyone could make sense of the gibberish the two ‘bot’s started reciting. But they all seemed equally confused and finished their lunch in silence.

       With stomachs full of food, the band started to pack up the room. They had about 6 hours before the show. It was time to start getting ready. Or at least try to.

       Rabbit wasn’t making it easy for anyone. While the other automatons were either sitting eerily quiet (Hatchworth) or helping them pack up while being eerily quiet (The Spine), Rabbit was hovering around the humans constantly, trying to convince them to call the show off.

       He tried everything, from begging with oily tears “Y-y-you can’t make us go up there. Please. Don’t do this. Please.” To reasoning, “You can tell them we are sick! Because we are. We are sick! Wha-wha-what will it gain us to perform the show but fail terribly?” To threats, “You do-don’t think I won’t run away? I’ll run all the way to Alaska! And I’ll take Squeezy with me! Good luck preforming without us!” But nothing worked. And as they all piled into the bus to go back to the event center, Rabbit was beginning to shiver in desperation.

        His brothers had come up with clever solutions to keep their weapons from extending but his wasn’t that easy. He couldn’t tie down the rotary saw blade, it would cut though anything he tied it with. Getting rid of the arm that had the saw hidden didn’t work, it was found and reattached. He tried to seal his mouth closed so he wouldn’t be able to use the flame thrower, but Michael had foiled that attempt as well. The only comfort he could take was the fact that he didn’t have any ammo loaded into the Gatling gun… He needed to think of something… fast.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello fair internet people!  
> I am very sorry for the delay on this chapter, work suddenly became all over-time and quite unwieldy so I had to put this on hold. But the rest of this story is written and checked (as much a I can check it)
> 
> While nothing in this chapter seems particularly triggering, I did want to warn those with emetophobia. There is some implication and admittance of throwing up but nothing graphically described.

* * *

  
******CHAPTER SEVEN** ** **

* * *

        “Steampunk Giraffes? You guys are on in thirty.”

        Michael waved in understanding at the Stage Manager as he was waiting in the wings of the stage, his attention mostly on the door to the green room.

        Rabbit was missing.

        The automaton said he’d felt a leak and went to a restroom to ‘check it out in a mirror’ and hadn’t returned yet. That was over ten minutes ago. Michael felt a cold dread that maybe Rabbit was going to go through with his threats.

        “Hey Matt?” Michael started, turning to give the other a quick look. “Think you could go check on ‘im?”

        The drummer nodded, heading out, ghosting his new solo, combatting his nerves as he always did before a show.

        The Spine and Hatchworth were already in standby mode, but Steve couldn’t complete the upload until all three were here. He was getting antsy too. “I swear, if his scheme here is just to stall us, I’m going to deck him.”

        Michael just shook his head, trying to keep bad thoughts out. The One-Man-Band would get nerves before a show, it’s just a natural part of being a performer, but this time the closer it got to getting on that stage, the harder it was to shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong. The Spine’s pleadings kept sneaking back into his mind. Rabbit’s fears. Hatchworth’s knowing stare. He was starting to doubt himself…

        Before those black musings could take hold. Matt came back with Rabbit in tow. The blonde looked sick to his stomach and Rabbit gave Michael a smile that was coated with a thick, black liquid.

        “Oh my god. What did you-” Michael stopped himself. He really did not have time to get into whatever new disaster Rabbit was trying to concoct. He was here now. It was time to get them synced. “You know what, nevermind.”

Rabbit clicked into standby and Michael cleaned off his teeth, seeing that it was clotted oil. That was… different. How did this stuff get all the way to his mouth?

        “You alright there, Doctor?” Steve asked, looking at Matt’s green visage uneasily.

        Matt just nodded and swallowed. “Yeah… I’m good.”

        “Yeah, right.”

        “No… I’m good. Really.”

        “Alright…” Steve turned his attention back to his work. “Alright! Looks like the upload is going smooth. God, this takes me back to the zoo days.”

        Michael just smiled at the S.O.U.N.D. engineer, listening to the crowd outside the curtain. A full house. They had come a long way from trying to netting passersby’s at the San Diego Zoo.

        “And… package upload successful!” Steve unplugged the board, “I’m gonna go find a stage hand to help me get this thing into the sound box. You guys got this?”

        A pair of nods and one bored looking stage hand later, Steve headed out to the booth with the sound board. The stage manager reappeared shortly after.

        “Giraffes! You guys are on in 5.”

        The automatons powered back up, making the Stage Manager jump lightly at the sudden movement, but quickly excused herself.

        The three shifted gently as they did their internal checks. They then grew quiet…

        “ _Fire Fire_ is on this set.” The Spine said softly. “It’s not too late to stop this Mr. Reed.”

        Michael didn’t say anything, and the lights outside the stage changed. The electronic sounds of the intro started.

        “Show time.” Matt said, looking to the robots with an encouraging, if slightly queasy smile. “You guys are going to be fine.”

        And with that, Matt and Michael entered the stage, to the delighted screams of the fans.

        The automatons were alone.

        Hatchworth looked over at Rabbit, “You alright there friend-o?”

        Rabbit shook his head, “I threw up most of my oil. Trying to bring my levels down. Just in case… You know… I don’t want to have anything left to ignite. I think I made Matt sick.”

        Rabbit looked at The Spine, “You read that debug paper. Are we safe?”

        The Spine gave a gentle vent of steam like a sigh, “I don’t know, fellahs.”

        “What should we do?” Hatchworth looked at his older brother expectantly.

        All the last minute schemes flashed though his mind and the titanium automaton eyed the exit door backstage. In three seconds they could be out of here, they could hide for a day or two then find their humans and go home.

        He released another vent and knew they weren’t going anywhere. Duty first. They had to trust their humans… And looking at his brothers, The Spine knew he had to say something. Something to give his friends the courage and confidence that he couldn’t find himself.

        “I think we should trust our humans. I mean, that’s why he have them, right? They are here to protect us and keep us running. If they really think we are going to be alright, maybe we should think that as well.”

        Rabbit looked at The Spine like he had lost his mind, but eventually nodded. “Alright, Cowboy, let’s knock ‘em dead.”

        “Figuratively.” Hatchworth added quickly.

        With a gentle smile, and a steadying hand on their shoulders, The Spine walked onto the stage, followed by his brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for the criminally short chapter this time, but I’ll be posting the next one very soon, possibly today if I can manage it. This just needed to be a separate part from the Epilogue/Last Chapter. It wasn't fitting in when I bundled them together. And I wanted to give you lovely readers fair warning when the end does come. This one is short… but be warned, the next chapter is a bit lengthily and is the end, and there is no happy ending. If you are still interested, please read on…


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello fair internet people!
> 
> I named this chapter Epilogue as it is written in a different style than the previous chapters, it's something of a present tense vs past tense free-form. I'm sorry if it comes off a bit confusing at times.
> 
> To take a page from Lemony Snicket: You have now come to the last chapter. It is not yet too late for you to close the web browser on your computer or mobile device where you are reading these words and believe that, for this story, the automaton band completed their set successfully. You can believe that it was the best set they had ever preformed. That afterwards, they signed many autographs and gave many wonderful hugs that they are known for.That after that, they packed everything up into the bus and drove to the Walter Manor, happy and healthy, with a bright future before them.
> 
> If, however, you want to know how this story was meant to end... please read on and enjoy.

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

* * *

 

 

            Peter A. Walter VI. Inventor. Genius. Not a morning person.

            Mask securely in place, Walter begins his morning routine. Groom. Dress. Ring for breakfast.

            The manor is so quiet this morning. With Rabbit and company out performing, there aren’t noises early in the morning or late into the night anymore. It’s nice, if a little lonely.

            Walter makes it to the dining room. His breakfast already laid out.

             A pile of morning mail waiting for him.

            The morning newspaper folded neatly next to his plate.

 

////

 

            Steve frowned slightly as he rebalanced the vocals again. The Spine’s voice had gotten marginally louder after each song. He knew that sometimes the titanium automaton had a tendency to increase in volume as the music ‘took hold’ of him.

            It was time for the last song before the mid-show rest. He was impressed that Rabbit was holding up so well with the unconventional start up, he thought his stutter would have been significantly worst then it was.

            The song started nice and strong. No slipping chords that Steve could hear. The Spine sang sweetly as ever (if a bit on the loud side). It sounded good.

            “ _Oh, it’s such a shame… Of all the things to go wrong while out in space…_ ”

            Steve smiled and slid the bar down further. The Spine was really into this set. Still getting louder…

            “ _Fire, Fire. Burns much brighter when oxygen is the supplier. Fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire, fire_.”

            Steve looked at the sound board quickly. The Spine was stuck. This was a new one, usually Rabbit was the one that would get this sort of bug.

             “ _Fire_. Fire. Fire! Fire! Fire! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!!”

            The Spine’s gentle smile turned into a wide eyed stare. His voice going from melodic into a hard shrieking repetition of that one terrifying word.

            Then, as abruptly as it started, the three robots dropped into standby, their instruments hanging limp on their straps.

            “I, uh, apologize for this ladies and gentleman,” Steve started, his heart pounding with adrenalin. Looking closely at the screen he saw no signs of BSOD, so that was good. “We were trying a new start up for this show. I think they kinda… overheated. Stressed processors, you know. They should be back up in just a second.”

            With a shutter, they powered back up. The ‘bots looked around blearily, as if confused. Steve tried to send them a link to the last song they were doing, but as soon as he hit send, Rabbit let out one of the most terrified screams he had heard.

            As if it were a trigger, they fought out of their instruments, all starting to babble and cry at once. The Spine splintered his beloved black Godin and threw the pieces to the ground as if they were on fire then started clawing at his left arm, tearing fabric and trying to get past the belts he had placed.

            The screen on the sound booth flashed the text ‘catastrophic system failure’ and ‘ERROR 404: SteamManBand.exe not found’ Steve’s blood turned icy cold.

 

\\\\\\\

 

            Fire… Fire… Fire…

            He could hear the orders to keep firing as he came out the darkness. Photoreceptors opened and he saw the jungle around him; he could hear the trumpets of elephants getting nearer. He heard a scream from his brother. Rabbit was close to him. He turned to the yell at his left, his body seeming sluggish to respond to his commands. His optics widened as he saw one of those mutated… things grasping onto his brother.

            “RABBIT! It’s on you!”

            But before The Spine could go to his aid, he saw that there was one on him as well. It wasn’t very heavy, but it reached up over his shoulder, grasping on to him securely, its face horrifying and gaping, like a fish drawn from the water.

            With a shout somewhere between disgust and surprise, The Spine brought his arm down against its slimy form, breaking it to pieces.

            Finally free, he started to survey the battlefield. A feeling of horror griped him as he saw a swarming morass of those creatures. All distorted and glowing with green matter in the shadow of the mountain. He could see the great copper elephants still approaching, gaining quickly on their position. There were so many… how did they get here so fast?

            Where was Three? Where was Hatchworth? From across the field, he saw a flash of brass. Hatchworth! He appeared to be trapped and those elephants weren’t slowing down. With the thrum, he started up the Tesla Coil… or tried to. He got blockage warnings blaring in his head.

            Confused, he looked at his arm to determine the cause of the error. His arm… something had bound it! It was thick like jungle vines and no matter how he scratched it, nothing was giving! He could feel the energy in the coil building up with nowhere to go!

            Looking back up at Rabbit, he saw that the other’s rotary saw was active.

            “RABBIT! HELP ME!”

            Rabbit’s eyes locked on to him and with three precise slices, The Spine’s arm was free.

            Nodding in thanks, he told his brother to help Hatchworth. “I’ll give you cover fire!”

            Blue sparks discharged as the coil started up. It was acting strange, like it hadn’t been fired for a long time.

            Turning to the evil mass of abominations, he smiled calmly. How convenient that those things are crowded so close together…

 

~~

 

            Walter takes a letter opener and slides it across the first of a mountain of letters. They are all very similar. A commission for a robot. An errant fan letter that somehow made it into the official mail box. An errant hate letter that also made it into the official mail box. A bill.

            Walter looks at the clock on the wall. 6:30. It won’t be long until he is accosted by the rest of the Walter employees. If he wants to eat his breakfast in peace, he should do it now.

            He quickly begins to eat, gently setting his mask on top of the unread newspaper.

 

////

 

            The One-Man-Band knew something was wrong about half way through the set. He had picked up on frequent ghost glitches that he was trained to see. Rabbit was having difficulty remembering which instrument went with what song. Hatchworth would trail off mid song, staring out at nothing in particular; it would only be for a moment, but Michael recognized it. He had seen the old stove behave that way when they first got him out of the vault. The Spine was losing control of his volume. He was getting slowly louder, drowning out the instruments and the other robots.

            Michael was relieved when they got to _Fire Fire,_ just one more song then they could have their break. Just one more song...

            It was one song too many.

            He kept motioning for Steve to cut the power, but it was so bright, he had no idea if he was looking at him. Even when he shaded his eyes, he could just barely make out the form of the S.O.U.N.D. engineer as he bobbed behind the board, working to stop this catastrophe.

            But it wasn’t working. The robots weren’t stopping and their cries were getting louder. Michael started listing every protocol code he knew; shouting any and all of the codes that came to his mind. Shut down. Restart. Empty boilers. Disassemble. Discontinue. Mute. Run Set 1. Run set 200. Stop. Please, for the love God, Stop.

            He was scrambling for his tool kit. The codes weren’t working. Steve wasn’t stopping them. This was bad.

            The whine of a saw blade made him drop the kit, his blood turning to ice in his veins. He spun, watching in horror as Rabbit sliced though the accordion that was strapped to him. It made a grinding, painful sound as the bellows of the delicate instrument were rent in half.

            Suddenly, Rabbit turned mismatched optics on his brother and swung his weapon down on him. But, rather than seeing a metal arm fly off, Michael heard a sharp snap as the belt that had bound The Spine was shredded and the crackling, sparking sounds of the old Tesla coil powering up.

            This was bad.

            Michael looked out at the crowd of concert goers. Some looked thrilled, thinking this was all an elaborate part of the act. Some nervous, thinking that this was a part of the act but not liking it very much. Some looked terrified, knowing that this wasn’t a part of the act but too curious to look away.

            He had to get these people out. Now.

            Michael ran to the front of the stage, Rabbit’s red megaphone in hand.

            “Everyone! You have to get out of here! Please get to the nearest exit-!”

            He stopped as a biting pain sliced into his back. He screamed and dropped the instrument.

            Oh God. It was like fire. Pain. PAIN. He looked down and saw red. A lot of red. Was he bleeding? Clumsily, the One-Man-Band moved to check himself but his knees buckled first.

            Before he blacked out, he saw Rabbit leap over him into the crowd. Please, Oh God. Please let those people get out.

 

\\\\\\\

 

            The gentle darkness was shattered with the harsh order to Fire! Fire!

            Rabbit’s photoreceptors flashed back on. How long were they out? His internal clock was so confused. Fire. Fire. It hurt. He screamed.

            “RABBIT! It’s on you!”

            The automaton blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. It was his brother’s voice. The Spine? Where was he? The lights were so bright and dazzling. He could barely hear him over the roar of the audience… no… battlefield. He heard the shrieks of the lost souls. He heard the trumpet of the copper monsters as they marched on. The lights stopped glaring and he saw the mud slick jungle fields of Africa.

            Then his brother’s words clarified.

            It's on me.

            Without a conscious thought, his right arm slid back so the rotary saw could be deployed. With a vent of steam, the saw began to spin with a metallic whine. The grasping creature had locked itself over him like a harness. It was holding close to his chassis, but it was no problem for Rabbit. He sliced through its form and shrugged off the dead creature.

            “RABBIT! HELP ME!”

            The Spine, his arm held out to him, cried his name out. The other’s arm was weaved closed with some sort of trap. With quick, precise motions, Rabbit brought the saw across his brother’s arm. He could feel the energy buzzing on the blade as it cut in between the gaps in The Spine’s arm as he deployed the electric coil. The blue sparks were already arching as he pulled away, the coil fully extending with a dangerous hiss.

            Rabbit was about to ask if he knew where the others were, when the loud call of an elephant drew is eyes to the horizon. The glint of gold and bronze caught his eye. His brothers were in trouble!

            “Get to them, Rabbit.” The Spine said stiltedly, his voice tight with worry but, as always, he had to stay in control. “I’ll give you cover fire.”

            Rabbit nodded seriously, and let his left arm foldout into his secondary weapon. The intricate tubes and stenciled patterns of the device gleamed in the grimy light as the Gatling gun locked into place. He willed it to fire.

            It span noisily, but no projectiles came out. Mismatched photoreceptors widened. Out of ammo? When did that happen?

            Rabbit unhinged his jaw and felt the nozzle for the flame thrower force its way up his throat and out his mouth. But, before he could light it, a warning of low oil flashed though him. Low oil. He would be stuck if he used any for burning at this point. He had just enough left to function. What happened to him? No oil? No ammo? He felt as if he had been sabotaged. The only thing he had left was the saw. His saw felt so small and powerless looking at the sea of mutants in front of him. But the copper automaton gathered his courage and span the saw in defiance. He knew what he had to do.

            “Watch my back, Marksley,” Rabbit called to The Spine. “Keep those shadows off me.”

            Before The Spine could respond, a green-matter polluted man rose up in front of Rabbit. His arms raised up to strike.

            Rabbit cried out in surprise and brought the saw down into the creature. It let out a scream and fell in one strike.

            Looking up past the sorry form, the copper elephants marched close. Hatchworth was trapped out there… and those giant replicas were getting ever closer. Rabbit jumped off of the cut out, his saw raised to strike.

 

~~

 

            Walter VI lets out a soft sigh, a mix of satisfaction from the morning meal and the annoyance at the number of bills. This was getting ridiculous. There are more bills then commissions. Not a good sign. He should talk with his father about getting a power source of their own. PG&E was going to bury them if they could.

            He picks up the mask and places it onto his face. And not a moment too soon as the door to the dining hall flew open and all the Walter employees (and intern) filed in with a chorus of morning wishes. Walter girls and guys gave smiles to the masked man as they passed, heading to the kitchen.

            “Good morning, Mr. Walter!” A happy voice chirped and he turns to see five blue-pale faces looking at him.

            “Good morning Walter Girls,” Peter says with a smile that they couldn’t see.

            The Walter Girl with the long black and blue hair looks longingly at the newspaper on the table and Peter silently kicks himself for not reading it sooner. The Walter girls were about to decimate that paper. No point in stopping them now.

            “Go ahead.” Peter says with a shrug, opening another bill.

            In moments the paper is divided. Walter Girl Paige fights with Walter Girl Savana over the funnies but finally decide to share it. Walter Girl Brittany grabs the listings for pets and local garage sales. Walter Girl Carolina, seeing the funnies were already taken, takes the front page. Matter Mistress Bunny grabs the rest, trying to put it into some semblance of order.

            But before Peter can say anything, Walter Girl Carolina drops to her knees, eyes wide and her mouth moving without sound. Her hand grasping the paper like it was a dying friend.

            The others rush to her side. “What’s wrong?! Are you alright? Are you hurt?! Someone call the ambulance!!”

            “Oh my God... Oh my God…”

            Matter Mistress Bunny gets the paper out of the other girl’s hands and spreads it on the table. Eyes dead and posture full of dread…

            They all move close and read the front page headline…

 

////

 

            Matt couldn’t force himself to move. He was frozen in unshakeable shock. He had tried to help when it started. He did. When Michael called for his tool kit, Matt was right there. When he had asked for the megaphone to try to organize an escape, Matt was right there. And when Rabbit’s rotary saw was brought down through the musician’s back, Matt was right there. But now, all he could do was kneel next to the unconscious and bleeding form of the One-Man-Band. Watching. Just watching.

            The screams of the crowd all melded into one cacophony of terror as electrical currents ripped through them, burning and arching from person to person. They were all packed together too close, trying to get out of the theatre. Biting and kicking to get out of the damned hall.

            Matt stared at the machines. The one with the titanium alloy spine had stopped firing the electrical shocks for a moment. The clothing it had once worn hung in tatters around it’s waist as sharp barbs from its back had extended like some grotesque fallen angel’s wings.

            The one with the copper plating was on top of the sound booth. Its mouth hung open in a dead parody of an open smile. It raised its tools of death over its head and waved them in an aggressive manner, as if trying to draw attention to itself. If there were words being said, Matt couldn’t hear them. Steve was at the sound board… but he couldn’t make anything out over the smoke. Smoke. The sound board was on fire.

            The fire had spread quite far. Outlets, amps and stage lights had over clocked and misfired violently as the electrical shots from the tesla coil hit them. Sparks turned into flames and the stage was wreathed in the deadly glow.

            Matt felt like he was trapped in a dream. A nightmare. He felt detached and oddly numb as he grasped at the man in his arms, trying to hold the wound closed with his hands. But a loud metallic shriek drew his attention to the far wall of the stage. The bronze machine was the cause of the sound. Its hands were clawing at its chest panel, tearing through cloth as if it were tissue paper, desperately denting the metal underneath. Clawing, pulling, and scratching. Trying to open the hatch.

 

\\\\\\\

 

            Fire. Fire? Is there a fire?

            Hatchworth’s world rushed back into focus as he powered back on. He silently berated himself for dozing, this is a battle field and no time to have a malfunction. As he looked around, he suddenly found that was alone, surrounded by the mutated husks of Becile’s terrible inventions. Where were his brothers? They were right in front of him! What was he doing last? Hatchworth’s memory circuits spun, but there was nothing to show for it. What had happened to him?

            “Hatchy! HATCHY!!”

            Rabbit’s voice reached him and he looked for its location. He could see The Spine and Rabbit across the mud slick jungle floor. He was about to go to them, when he found that he felt sluggish. He couldn’t move. Something was slowing him. Then he heard the ear splitting call of the elephants and he felt the ground tremble at the approaching monstrosities. He could see them; they were headed right for him! Why couldn’t he move?!

            Hatchworth reached for his panel, not sure why it was closed in the first place and grabbed the handle. He gave it a good tug… but it didn’t move. It was stuck tight.

            “THE SPINE! RABBIT! HELP ME!” he screamed to them, but knew it is futile.

            The Spine fired several rounds of the coil, but knew he was going to have to recharge soon if he kept shooting at that frequency. Rabbit was trying to cut his way through the jungle and the polluted creatures, and the brass automaton knew he was not going to get there in time. He needed to get that hatch open. NOW!

            Where were the others? There can’t be just three of them left… can it?

            The elephants were getting closer, he could almost make out the glowing green eyes of the beasts. He knew that they have seen him. He was trapped.

            He watched his older brother bravely leap on top of a rocky outcropping, trying to get the attention off of Hatchworth. But, it was too late. It had picked its target.

            The others. He needed to protect them! He needed his cannon.

            With the strength of desperation, Hatchworth jammed his hands into his chassis, tearing and screaming as he received pain signals from the self-damage. But he had to ignore the warnings. He HAD to get the hatch open.

            He wrenched and pulled for what seemed an eternity as the elephants moved ever closer, the heat radiating off their forms made distorted smears of the shadows that fell over the trapped automaton.

            With a last push, the hatch gave away, coming fully off its hinges, tearing the welded metal frame and falling onto the ground. Hatchworth’s eyes widened in pain and elation.

            They were going to make it! They were going to be ok!

            He started up the cannon as the elephant took another step closer…

 

~~

 

The New York Times

VOL 124, LC… No. 4  New York, MONDAY, FEBURARY 18, 2013  75 Cents

ANTIQUE ROBOTIC BAND MALFUNTIONS AT CONCERT

27 DEAD, 103 INJURED


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